


A Good Day's Work Is Never Done

by Ranua



Series: Gimme A Double [1]
Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranua/pseuds/Ranua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural: He had a normal college life, but he couldn't turn his back on an obvious haunting.</p>
<p>Leverage: This retrieval wasn't going at all how he planned it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day's Work Is Never Done

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-cannon for both shows. We don't need no stinking timelines.

It's spring break his freshman year at Stanford that nearly undoes Sam. Pigheaded stubbornness had prevented him from breaking down and calling his brother over Christmas break, but the prospect of spring break had him homesick. Or maybe he should call it Dean-sick, since it was his brother he was missing, not some non-existent home. 

He ought to be happy, he's in college like he'd dreamed of for years. He's finally getting to have the normal life he's craved for as long as he can remember. His first spring break as a normal college student is just around the corner and he should be looking forward to partying and letting loose with friends, instead he's moping around, missing his brother. Even the Dean in his head leering; 'College girls, Sammy. Drunk, itty-bitty bikini wearing, letting loose on spring break, college girls.' (every year, his older brother prayed for a hunt in Florida over spring break.) did nothing to make Sam miss him any less.

It'd be an understatement to say he was angry when he left Dad and Dean. He'd been seething with anger and determined to prove he could make it without them. He's resisted reaching out to Dean so far, even so, he knows as bad as it was when he left, Dean has forgiven him. 

On the fifth of every month, like clockwork, Sam gets a check from something called The Foundation for Further Education. The first time Sam opened that envelope and found a check made out to him for $200 he'd been thrilled to the core and hadn't been able to get it to the bank fast enough. It took less than a week for him to get suspicious however. 

He hadn't been able to remember applying to anything called The Foundation for Further Education in his quest to fund his education and there had been no explanations beyond the first cover letter. He had to give Dean credit though, his older brother had made it look pretty damn legit. From checks, letterhead and envelopes to a phoney website, it had looked like Dean had covered all his bases. Sam supposed Dean hadn't expected him to question where the money had come from so closely, or hadn't realized the resources available to a research minded college student. It only took looking for the foundation's 501C3 to prove it wasn't legit.

He'd been so pissed when he figured out where the money must be coming from. -damn Dean anyway for not thinking he could take care of himself- he almost tore the second check to shreds. When he'd thought it over with a calmer head however, he knew it was just Dean's way of trying to take care of him the best he could, just like always. He feels resentful and grateful at the same time producing a confusing mix of emotions that end up making him angry. He's taken to spending only half; putting the rest in savings to give back to Dean someday.

*&*&*&*&

'C'mon man,' Spencer pleads, 'you gotta help me out. Renee's cousin Callie took an internship in the area and doesn't know anybody and Renee has been on me for weeks to find somebody to set her up with. I figure your geeky ass is as good as any.

'Oh, thanks, I feel the love,' Sam snarks back. 'A cousin? Seriously?' He shakes his head, mock sorrow on his face as he sighs, 'I suppose she's got a great personality.'

'Dude, I don't know, but you're my only hope. Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope'

'Oh, God, not the Star Wars!' Sam raises his hands in surrender, 'Fine, fine, I'll got, but you so owe me.'

'It's a deal man. You're saving my life here, you wont' regret it. I promise.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sam shakes his head at Spencer's antics. At the least, going out as Renee's cousin's pity date will take his mind off his unreasonable homesickness. 'I'm doing it for Renee and not you.'

Spencer turns out to be right and Sam does end up having a good time. Callie is cute and funny and smart and just socially awkward enough that she doesn't intimidate Sam with her brains or looks. He's very glad he came along when she starts telling stories about the weird stuff that goes on at the IT company she's interning with.

'Not that kind of weird you perverts,' she laughs, smacking Spencer on the arm. 'Spooky weird stuff. People's desks get rearranged, code gets erased, cold spots.' She gives a delicate shudder as she sips her drink. 'One of the code guys tripped over nothing and got a concussion hitting the floor.'

'Sounds like geek pranks to me,' Spencer scoffs.

'Oh no,' Callie continues, wide eyed and serious, 'every one says it's the ghost of the CEO's older brother. They founded the company together see, but rumor says they hated each other. Each accusing the other of intellectual property theft. One day the older brother dropped dead in the lab. No one knows why.'

With laughter and Casper jokes the topic gets changed to the up-coming trip Renee and Spencer are taking down to Baja. Sam doesn't forget though, and is sure to ask Callie a few more careful questions before the night is over. 

Callie's story of a possible haunting gives Sam even more to focus on besides missing Dean. If there really is a ghost haunting the company Callie is interning at, he can't, in good conscious, not do something about it. He may be trying to have a normal life, but he was raised to help people by killing monsters. 

The thought of calling Bobby to get some other hunter to take care of it does briefly cross his mind. But Bobby would want to talk to him and he still isn't ready for that. Or worse, he'd tell Dean or his Dad about it and one of them would show up. It should only be a simple salt and burn, he could take care of that himself. And if it wasn't, then he'd call Bobby.

Plan of action in place, he easily falls into the rhythm of prepping for a hunt. There's no way he can get a shotgun, so an old iron pry-bar is going to have to be enough. A small backpack gets packed with plenty of salt and lighter fluid, along with a couple books of matches and the lock picks he's glad he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. 

Research has always been easy for him, and finding out about Silvers Integrated Technological is a cake walk. The company has an excellent website with a memorial to the deceased right on the front page and everything.

Of course that's where the easy ends. A search of records yields the information that the older brother was cremated. No body to dig up makes it a search for what ever remnant is anchoring the deceased to this world and God only knows where that could be kept. 

Even that has it's up side though; it's a pain in the ass digging up a grave on your own. Not to mention, digging up a grave in a busy city is risky business and there is no way he wants to jeopardize his college career. He really hopes whatever little bit is anchoring the spirit to the material plane is at the offices. Since that's where the strange activity is taking place it's a good bet, all it's gonna take is a little b&e. 

Research done by Sunday afternoon, he decides there's no time like the present to carry out his plan. In fact, Callie had said there wouldn't be anyone in the offices until Tuesday due to some health code compliance thing. That would give him all the time he needed to search for the remains, and with luck, no one would discover any signs of a break-in until well into the week.

It's surprisingly easy to break in to the building -he's not sure if he should be pleased or ashamed his skills haven't gotten rusty in the months since he left the hunting life. Experience tells him there are only a few places people keep the remains of loved ones. His sweep of the foyer and other public spaces doesn't turn up any kind of memorial, leaving the living brothers office or maybe someplace closer to the action of the business like a conference room or lab of some type.

Going deeper into the building he comes across the offices first. Searching the doors around the perimeter of the ubiquitous cubical farm turns up the remaining brother's office. He really hopes the remnant is here and not in the corner of a conference room on some other floor. He's just jimmied the lock when from the corner of his eye he catches the gleam of a tiny light.

It's bare dot of light with a dim glow and any one else probably would have missed it. He's been doing this since he was seven though, and has been look-out on more hunts and break-ins than he could ever count. He slips through the bare crack of the open door, hoping whatever the light is, it's not coming for him.

Unfortunately, the light comes straight for the office he's in. Sam is sure it isn't a security guard, wrong kind of flashlight, and he doesn't think it's the ghost since it appears to be bobbing around obstacles instead of passing through them. Gripping his pry-bar he positions himself in the dark corner of the room by the door.

His dark adjusted eyes pick out the shape of a shortish guy in dark, fitted clothes and a watch cap, slip through the door. Great, he thinks, that's all I need, an actual burglary. The dude seems to know exactly what he's doing too, going straight to the back wall of the office, checking it out in a way Sam would swear people only did in TV shows and movies.

Thankfully, guy hadn't checked his surroundings, so Sam was either stealthier than he thought or the guy was an amateur, for all it looked like he knew what he was doing. Although, some amateur breaking in could work out in his favor. Evidence of a break-in and robbery should cover up any signs of Sam's being there.

Sam settles further into the shadows to wait out the dude robbing the place, figuring it can't take too long and then he'll take care of his business and be on is way. This is his life though, so of course it can't go easy. As Sam watches, barely breathing, a lamp slowly lifts from a side table, as it reaches head height it picks up speed and flies straight at the burglar. Sam can't help himself, he yells a warning that has the other man dropping to a defensive crouch.

*&*&*&*&

Dropping out of sheer reflex at the sound of an unexpected voice, Eliot manages to just miss being hit in the head with a lamp. Cursing his carelessness -he should have made sure he was alone, not just assumed it- he quickly scans the room for his attacker. There's only one other person in the room, a youngish guy, not much more than a kid, in the shadows behind the door; not at all in the right position to have thrown the lamp at his head. And why he would have yelled a waring if he had thrown the lamp Eliot doesn't know.

'What the hell,' he mutters. There wasn't supposed to be anyone here this weekend. He'd set that part of the job up himself, pretending to be a health inspector and claiming the need to spray for bugs that thrived in the warm conditions of computer servers. 'No, no one could be here during the spraying, it was toxic to humans . . . 'No, no it wouldn't affect the computers at all' . . . 'You won't notice a thing come Tuesday.' It'd been one of his better cons in his opinion.

Crouched defensively, he's weighing his options, keeping his eye on the other guy, when an invisible something slams into him, pushing him across the room and pinning him to the wall opposite the safe he's there to get into. The shock of it surprises what he'll deny forever was a high pitched yell out of him. For a long tense moment he's pinned tight, feet off the ground, before the force dissipates as suddenly as it appeared, dropping him.

Eliot pulls himself together, surreptitiously patting himself down, checking is weapons and gear. Out of nothing there appears a foggy shape between him and the wall holding the safe. He'd say it was a person, but he's never seen a person flicker like a bad special effect before.

The guy swings a crowbar through the person thing and it breaks apart like nothing Eliot has ever seen.

'What the hell was that?' He is this close to loosing his cool completely, because no one vaporizes into wisps of light and smoke when hit with a crowbar.

'A ghost,' the taller kid answers, holding a defensive stance as he scans the office with what Eliot recognizes as practiced ease. He has no idea what the hell that is supposed to even mean.

'A what?' He growls in a voice that manages incredulous and pissed at the same time.

'A ghost,' the guy repeats, 'now shut up and let me find what's holding it here and you can go back to your little b&e with no further interruption.'

Eliot is confused, and that doesn't help his temper any, it's making him doubt he saw anything in the first place. He's ready to take the guy out and be done with it when there's the same flickering shimmer in the air again, right behind the guy. It startles a yell out of him and the other man takes it for a warning, turning and swinging the crowbar again, and again the whatever the hell it is vanishes.

'Seriously, what the hell is that?' Eliot is slipping from confused and angry to freaked out. He has never in his life encountered anything like this ghost.

*&*&*&*&

'Look,' Sam turns to the man with exasperation. 'It's a ghost. The earthly manifestation of the spirit of a dead person,' he explains. 'For whatever reason, it decided not to move on. I'm trying to find the part of it that's anchoring it here. Now, you can shut up and stay out of the way, or you can help.'

Sam has done small salt and burn's on his own before, but never without his Dad or Dean in the next room or, at the most, a cell call away. It feels strange to be the one with the expertise, the one being looked to for answers. He's not scared exactly, but he is apprehensive. What if he doesn't get it right? What if the thing that's holding the ghost to the material plane isn't here? What if this civilian gets hurt?

The ghost manifests again, and again Sam swings the pry bar through it to gain a momentary respite.

'A ghost,' the dude in the watch cap repeats, voice still tinged with disbelief. 'You beat up ghosts with a crow bar?'

Sam sighs, why couldn't he have gotten the screaming and running civilian? Just his luck he gets the guy who wants to play 20 questions. 'Iron and salt dispel ghosts, and since I don't have a shotgun anymore it's the crow bar or get beat up.'

'A shotgun?' Confusion and what sounds like it's edging into anger color the low voice.

'A shotgun with rock salt packed shells,' Sam answers. 'Ghosts 101, they're the spirits of people who for some reason didn't move on. They're tied to a location, usually the place they died or a place that held some significance to them in life.' Sam counts off points on his fingers as he searches the room. 'They can be temporarily dispelled by passing iron or salt through their manifestation. And if you cover with salt and then burn their mortal remains, or what ever little piece of them is left on earth, ah, there you are,' he starts toward a shadowbox on the wall, ' that will get rid of them permanently.'

Moving toward the shadowbox that he can see holds a picture of the dead guy and a lock of hair causes the ghost to attack again. It doesn't manifest, but paper and small objects begin to swirl dangerously through the air, blocking Sam from his goal.

'Here,' Sam says, handing the crowbar to the burglar guy. 'You see anything you swing. I need both hands.'

*&*&*&*&

Eliot takes the crowbar feeling a little silly. A pry-bar against a ghost? He's never believed in ghosts, not even as a child when his grandmother would tell tales of restless spirits and betrayed souls.

He watches the tall guy work his way through the swirling mess, one arm protecting his face, the other batting flying debris away. He takes what he knows are a few panicky swings, but doesn't connect with anything. He's trying real hard to hang onto his professional cool, but this is so far outside his experience he feels like it's his first job all over again.

The guy reaches his target, a shadowbox right beside the wall safe Eliot was after, and the part of Eliot's mind that is always analytical, even in a firefight, supplies that that must be why the ghost attacked him in the first place, it thought Eliot was after it's anchor point.

With a swift tug the kid pulls the box from the wall, breaking the glass with his elbow he drops the whole thing into a metal trash can by the desk. Pulling out a small bottle of lighter fluid and a carton of salt from a small backpack, he liberally coats the whole mess, dropping a lit book of matches on top.

The ghost goes up in a swirling scream of smoke and noise and then nothing.

Eliot is dumbfounded. This is officially the strangest retrieval job he's ever done. The kid is barely breathing hard and is grinning like it's been a day at the park.

*&*&*&*&*&*

'Well, that wasn't too bad,' Sam grins, high on the adrenaline of a successful hunt. He feels a little bad for bringing a civilian in on his hunt, but the guy did show up in the wrong place at the wrong time. The least Sam can do is help him out now. 'Alright then, what were you here for?' he asks.

The burglar guy just gives him a dumbfounded look. 'Seriously?'

'Well yeah.' Sam replies with a shrug. 'It looks like we interrupted each other. The least I can do is keep watch for you while you do what ever it is you came here to do.'

Sam can see confusion and wariness chase themselves across the other man's features. With a jolt he realizes what he just said. He could smack himself for offering to help some guy he doesn't know with a little B & E. All his trying to be normal and fit in and here he was offering to help some guy commit a felony.

With an internal shrug he decides what's done is done and can't be undone. This will be the last time he ever does anything like it though, the next time he gets wind of anything supernatural anywhere near Stanford he's calling Bobby.

*&*&*&*&*

Eliot can only stare in disbelief at the kid, no way he was for real. He feels like he's trapped in an episode of the Twilight Zone or Candid Camera, something twisted and unreal. Figuring it can't get any stranger he shrugs, 'Alright.' At this point he's sure he could use all the help he can get.

Carefully, he picks his way to the wall safe, half expecting something to jump out to prevent him from reaching it again. It's the work of only a moment to crack the safe and retrieve the drive his client wants. Turning back to where the kid is scanning the surrounding offices and doorways with a professional eye, he motions that he's done and they should get going. 

As they pass under the dim lights in the foyer Eliot gives the other man an intent once over, committing his face to memory. He's still not entirely sure what just happened. All he knows is this kid is extremely dangerous and he wants to be sure he'll recognize him if they ever cross paths again.


End file.
